


The Neighbors

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Capes, Eventual Romance, M/M, Photographer!Tim, Random Music References, Writer!Jason, thin walls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 17:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14061405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: “Gesundheit!”a voice shouts from somewhere.Finally stopping, Jason sniffs hard and rubs at his eyes, looking around. He knew the walls were thin in this place, but he didn’t think they were that bad. “Thanks?” he says, slightly louder than normal.“You’re welcome!”Jason stares at the wall his new bookcases stand upright against. Well, at least that neighbor isn’t totally psycho. Or he is and he’s just being lulled into a false sense of security. Burnley may not be the Bowery, but it’s still Gotham.





	The Neighbors

**Author's Note:**

> For Day Four of JayTim Week 2018 - Free Day!
> 
> Prompts that inspired this story can be found on my Tumbler [here](https://chibinightowl.tumblr.com/post/171323481228/neighbors-aus).

Jason runs a hand through his sweat dampened hair and stretches, relishing the pop in his back. Moving is a bitch and a half, even if he doesn’t have all that much in the first place. But while he can cram his life’s possessions into several cardboard boxes, the majority of them books, he’s still pleased as hell to finally have an address that’s not in the Bowery. Sure, Burnley isn’t that far, but whatever. It’s an accomplishment and one to be proud of. 

His best friend Roy slings an arm over his shoulders. “Well, Jaybird, you did it. Now where are you going to put all this crap?” 

“Literature is not crap, you heathen,” Jason retorts. “Try reading a book sometime instead of parking your ass in front of the TV.” 

Roy scoffs. “As if I haven’t seen your ass there with me.” 

“My TV time is directly proportional to the amount of booze in my system.” Jason shrugs off his friend’s arm. His TV isn’t the greatest, but he does have one. “Now, come on. There’s a Goodwill down the street that I want to check out for some bookcases.” And to get an idea for what a sofa will cost because he’ll need one at some point. Maybe even a small dining table that’s not an old poker table with mismatching folding chairs. He’s got a _real_ address now, it’s time to get comfortable. 

“Why do I even know you?” It’s an old question, one Jason doesn’t even bother answering. Sometimes it feels like he’s known Roy since time began. They put up with each other’s shit when no one else does. It’s more than either of them ever had before they met. 

“Goodwill, Roy.” Jason shoves his friend out the door. “Time to put that truck of yours to good use again.” 

“You’re just friends with me because of my truck.” 

“Whatever gave you that idea?” 

Later, after three trips up and down the stairs with the new bookcases _and_ the surprisingly comfortable sofa he got for a steal, Jason treats Roy to pizza and beer for helping him out. 

“Thanks, man. I owe you one.” 

Roy waves him off as he tries to cram an entire slice of pizza into his mouth. “I have a truck. This shit happens to me all the time.” It really does. He bitches about it often. 

“Perhaps you should charge more then.” 

“Maybe I will, next time you move. Your first book is doing well, who knows what the second one will do?” 

Jason ducks his head, still rather embarrassed by his newfound success. Who’d have thought a semi autobiographical YA novel would turn out to be so popular? It’s not the fine literature he dreams about writing, but it’s paying the bills. 

After dinner, Roy leaves Jason alone in his new place. The single mattress he calls a bed is already tucked into a corner, his desk lamp sitting on a crate next to it. Real tables are next on his list of items to buy, but that’ll have to wait a few paychecks to happen. The bookcases and sofa were enough of a splurge for now. 

He sits down in front of the shelves, his boxes arrayed around him. Call him a dork, a nerd, whatever, but these are what Jason considers his most prized possessions. Opening one of the boxes, he breaths in the dusty scent of old paper. And promptly sneezes because of actual dust. 

Jason sneezes again, and again, in quick rapid-fire bursts. 

 _“Gesundheit!”_ a voice shouts from somewhere. 

Finally stopping, he sniffs hard and rubs at his eyes, looking around. He knew the walls were thin in this place, but he didn’t think they were that bad. “Thanks?” he says, slightly louder than normal. 

 _“You’re welcome!”_  

Jason stares at the wall his new bookcases stand upright against. Well, at least that neighbor isn’t totally psycho. Or he is and he’s just being lulled into a false sense of security. Burnley may not be the Bowery, but it’s still Gotham. 

~*~*~*~

Tim bites back a yawn as he tries to finish editing the last of the pictures from the wedding he photographed last month. The happy couple had picked out which photos they wanted from the master disc he sent and he just has to put the finishing touches on them before he can collect the rest of his payment. 

Sometimes, he misses being the Drake heir. Living paycheck to paycheck, stretching out every single dime is a pain in the ass. But as soon as the thought enters his head, Tim shoves it aside. He has his _freedom_ now and that is more than worth the effort it takes to make a living at doing something he enjoys. 

He continues working, tapping his foot absently to the song playing in the background. It’s not until he’s done that he realizes the music he’s been listening to isn’t his. It’s his new neighbor’s. Tim sighs and stares intently at their shared wall. The all too thin wall that allows him to hear just about everything the man does. He’s been here a couple weeks and seems to be settling in well enough, even if he hasn’t learned yet just how thin the walls here really are. Tim’s pretty sure he could punch through it with no effort whatsoever if he were so inclined. 

Still, whoever the new guy is, he’s a damn sight better than the last one. All that man seemed to do was bring home women (and once another man, which made for an interesting change) and screw them. Tim still has a private bet with himself that most of those orgasmic shouts he heard were faked. 

New guy though is quiet for the most part. Or rather, they appear to work opposite hours of each other, not that Tim sticks to any particular schedule unless he’s got work. Freelance photography isn’t lucrative, but he’s making a name for himself and slowly building his brand. Web design is where he gets steadier work, a fact he takes gross advantage of when he built his own site. But the new guy seems to enjoy rocking out to 80s metal bands at the oddest times and singing along too. 

He probably doesn’t even realize Tim can hear every word. 

A wicked smirk appears as he comes up with a suitable revenge. Tim angles the speakers on his computer towards his neighbor’s wall and turns on his own favorite playlist. Alternative is much more his speed. He cranks the volume ever so slightly and gets up to take that shower he’s been putting off in favor of finishing his work. 

When he comes back out, toweling off his still dripping hair, he pauses the music. Silence greets him. 

Then a voice speaks up from the other side of the wall. _“Judas Priest and Slayer are better!”_  

“The 80s called and said they want their music back!” Tim retorts without even thinking. 

A sharp bark of laughter echoes through the wall. _“News flash for you then. So does the 90s!”_  

Tim laughs because this isn’t the first time he’s been told that. Looks like the new guy isn’t too bad after all. 

~*~*~*~

There’s a knock at Jason’s door and he looks up from the second-hand laptop where he’s reworking his outline for his next novel. No matter what he seems to do, the story wants to go _left_ when he tries to make it go _right_. At this point, he’s giving up and seeing what happens. The knock doesn’t repeat itself and after a minute, Jason gets up to take a peek outside. 

No one is there, but the Amazon package sitting in front of his door rather hard to miss. He picks it up and brings it inside. He’d almost forgotten about the book order he made the week before and is eager to get his hands on them. 

It’s only when the contents are arrayed on his little kitchen table that Jason realizes this isn’t his order. For starters, while there’s a book in there, a study on black and white photography isn’t his thing. Nor is the package of photo paper. He picks up the box and looks at the label. 

 _Tim Drake_  

Same address as him, different apartment number. 

“Shit.” Jason boxes everything back up carefully and heads out in search of the right apartment. He doesn’t go far, stopping almost immediately when he spots the number on the door next to him. It’s the same neighbor that he’s been having music battles with now for close to a month. The guy has a wicked sense of humor if his music taste is anything to go by. 

Well, no time like the present to finally introduce himself. Jason knocks at the door and waits. He knocks again, but still no answer. 

Looking at his watch, Jason grimaces when he realizes what time it is. Early afternoon is all fine and dandy for him, but for most people, they’re at work. Not wanting to leave an open package in the hall, he retreats back to his apartment and makes a mental note to try again later. 

It doesn’t happen that night as Jason gets lost in his writing and ends up rushing out the door to the bartending job he still keeps because at least that’s a steadier source of income. He’s not afraid to flirt to get better tips either. 

The next morning, he remembers and immediately goes knocking again. Probably won’t have any luck, but it’s worth a shot. 

After the second knock, Jason hears the sound of a deadbolt turning. He straightens up and tries not to look threatening. Roy’s told him time and time again that his scowl is enough to make the weak-willed shit themselves. 

The young man who opens the door is sleep rumpled, with black hair in desperate need of a trim, and glacially pale blue eyes that glare daggers at him. The icy glare makes Jason swallow, which he’s sure he’ll find hilarious later because Tim is a half a head shorter than him and maybe a buck twenty five soaking wet. 

“What?” Tim growls, even if it comes out more as a grumble. 

Jason holds out the box. “This was delivered to my place yesterday. I thought it was my book order and accidently opened it. I’m so sorry.” 

Tim must have been deeply asleep as it clearly takes him a moment to process things. “S’okay,” he finally pronounces and accepts the box. He flips open the folded over cardboard and inspects the contents before nodding. “Thanks.” 

The door is slammed shut in Jason’s face before he has a chance to say anything else. 

Okay, that didn’t go exactly as he thought it would, but he walks back to his apartment having learned two new things about his neighbor. One, he’s not a morning person. At all. And two, he’s hot as hell. 

Jason spends the rest of the morning pondering the situation and finally puts it out of his mind. So he has a cute neighbor. Great. He’s been here in the building several weeks now and hasn’t seen him before, so it’s not like their paths are going to cross all that often. 

A couple days later, he’s settling in for some serious writing when there’s a knock on his front door. Glancing at the clock, he sees it’s barely after nine. He waits, and there’s a second knock. This time, he rises and peers through the peephole. 

It’s Tim. 

Jason runs a hand through his unruly hair and glances down, grimacing when he realizes he’s just wearing an old pair of gym shorts. It’ll have to do. At least he looks good without a shirt on. Opening the door, he starts to say something, but stops when he notices the package Tim’s holding. “Let me guess,” he says with an easy grin. “The delivery guy screwed up again?” 

Tim blinks, slowly coming out of the daze he appears to be in and raises his eyes upwards. “Y-yeah,” he stutters out and shoves the unopened box towards him. “I didn’t order anything else and then I read the label…” 

“We should start implementing a note system if this keeps up,” Jason jokes. “I’ve got a weird schedule sometimes, but I’m usually home by midnight at the latest.” 

That garners a little half smirk from Tim. “Prime witching hours for me,” he replies, this time more confidently. “I don’t usually see this time of day unless I’m working. Which,” the shorter man looks at his watch, “I really need to get going. Brides always go ballistic if I’m not there to shoot their entire beauty regime.” 

“You’re a photographer?” Jason manages to ask the obvious. There’s a duffle bag hanging off Tim’s narrow shoulder, but for all he knows, his neighbor is an assassin with a sniper rifle in there to actually shoot the bride. 

But Tim lights up at the question. “Yes. I have a card somewhere if you ever need one. I’ll slip it under your door later. I’ve got to run!” He gives a little wave and darts off. 

Jason steps out into the hall to watch him jog to the stairwell. The view is just as good from behind as it is from the front, even if Tim’s dressed in pressed slacks and a collared shirt. Well, this morning is turning out better already, especially with his neighbor’s reaction to his…well, everything. The shorts don’t hide much. 

~*~*~*~ 

Tim wants to kick himself in the ass for making a complete and utter fool of himself in front of his stupidly hot neighbor. He prides himself on his composure but that went right out the window the moment Jason opened his front door wearing nothing but some ridiculous little pair of gym shorts that emphasized thighs that should be illegal. And the rest of him…well, at least he didn’t fall to his knees and ask to lick his abs. Or anything else. 

Still, at least his foggy memory of when the man came knocking on his door have proven not to be some fantasy his sleepy brain came up with. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened. 

A couple nights later, Tim meets up with his best friend to go bowling. Kon is a freelance reporter for the _Gotham Times_ who hopes one day to make it to Metropolis or New York and work for one of the big publishers there. 

“How’s the music war going with your neighbor?” Kon asks as they square off for the next set. Their friend Stephanie works here so she’s able to get them discounted games sometimes. She’s busy at the bar, but has promised to try and join them if it slows down at all. 

“Ongoing.” Jason has taken to playing obscure metal bands Tim doesn’t even have the faintest clue of who they are. Or were since he’s pretty sure the man hasn’t ventured out of the 80s yet. He’s doing the same, but with indie alternative bands from the 90s. 

Kon side-eyes him before picking up his ball. He hefts it and a few steps later, it’s flying down the alley. Most of the pins fall, but Tim’s already preoccupied with his phone, trying to track down a song. 

There’s a smack on the back of his head that has Tim looking up. “What?” 

“I said your turn twice now.” 

Tim rushes his set, not wanting to lose track of things, and ends up with only half the pins down and a gutter ball. “Crap,” he mutters as he watches his ball veer off into oblivion. Kon’s going to be on him for sure. 

True to form, Kon is waiting, a little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” 

When in doubt, deny. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tim steps up to the table behind their lane and pours a glass of cheap beer into an even cheaper plastic cup. 

“You’re totally grooving on your neighbor.” 

Tim arches an eyebrow at his eager friend. “No one uses that word anymore.” 

“I’m trying to make it come back.” Kon flashes a grin from where he’s leaning on the railing. “Now, I want to hear all about this. All the things you _haven’t_ told me.” 

“There’s nothing to tell!” Tim protests. He refuses to tell Kon about the short shorts. That’s for him only. “He’s my neighbor who I happen to think is hot. Nothing is going on there. At all.” 

“And denial is a river in Egypt.” Kon shakes his head and joins Tim at the table. “You know,” he says thoughtfully as he pours himself a beer from the pitcher. “There’s only one solution to this mess.” 

“What?” Tim asks warily. 

“More beer.” 

Later that night, Tim stumbles his way up the stairs and leans heavily against his front door, fumbling with the key for the lock. He swears he only made it to the correct floor due to muscle memory because he’s more wasted than he’s been in a while. Kicking off his sneakers, he makes sure the door is locked behind him and beelines it to his fridge for some water. It feels incredible going down his throat, but not as incredible as the shower he’s already ripping his clothes off for. Bowling is fun, but the scent of cigarette smoke and stale beer lingers. Stephanie bitches about it all the time. 

Jason’s playing something next door that tickles at Tim’s sloshed brain. But the shower calls to him. Loudly. But so does Freddie Mercury for some reason and he finds himself performing his best (short) rendition of _Somebody to Love_ as loudly as his vocal cords allow. The effort leaves him exhausted, so Tim finishes up and then promptly passes out in his bed. 

The next morning, he feels like death warmed over and pointedly sends Kon a text to inform him of such. His best friend really is an asshole as he sends him a gif of a man in tiny gym shorts bench pressing weights. 

“Shit,” Tim swears and gives up. Kon wins this round. He’ll figure out a suitable revenge when his brain comes back online. 

A few hours later, he feels more human and decides to brave the afternoon sun to start that grocery shopping he keeps putting off. He can cook, he really can, it’s just something he doesn’t enjoy doing. 

It’s just his luck when he comes down the stairs that he spots Jason by the mailboxes in the entrance hall. Memories of his serenade last night flood through him and Tim blanches, but the man sees him before he has the chance to run and hide on another floor. Maybe he didn’t hear it. 

“Hey, Tim!” Jason greets him with a shit-eating grin. “Have some fun last night?” 

No such luck. At least he’s got a shirt on, even if he is wearing shorts again. Thankfully not gym shorts as Tim doesn’t need his brain to short circuit in front of him a second time. “Yeah,” he mumbles halfheartedly. “Went bowling. Got plastered.” 

“Sounds like a good time.” Jason closes the little door to his mailbox and leans against the wall, his blue-green eyes intent on Tim. “I think we finally found a band we can both agree on.” 

Tim groans and dramatically starts banging his head against the wall. “Please, just forget that ever happened. I am so sorry.” At least he knows why that song got stuck in his head last night. Jason had been playing Queen. 

Jason laughs and _ruffles his hair_ as he passes by to head upstairs. Tim stiffens and tries not to lean into the touch. “No chance,” the man says, tossing another smirk over his shoulder. “I should invite you over next time my buddy Roy wants to play Rock Band. He says I hog the mic.” He winks and disappears up the stairs. 

Tim waits a moment before slamming his head against the wall one final time. Why is this happening to him? It’s like a bad rom-com come to life. 

~*~*~*~

Jason grins charmingly at the sloshed woman on the other side of the bar. She’s been trying to hit on him all night and while she’s hot as hell, even he can tell she’s only doing it to piss off the guy she came here with. It’s not his problem but he makes a point not to linger as the last thing he needs is to get into a fight with the other man for trying to pick up on his girl. Flirting may get him extra tips, but it can also get him in trouble if he does it with the wrong person. The clock on the register says it’s almost midnight and he can’t wait for his shift to be over. 

He’d left a note on Tim’s door before he left for work, asking if everything was alright because he hasn’t heard any music from the adjacent apartment for a couple days now. Their battle of the bands has continued full force, even after Tim’s little serenade the previous week. But it’s been too quiet the last few evenings and since he kinda likes the guy, checking in is the neighborly thing to do, right? 

It’s not something he’s entirely sure of since this is the first neighbor he’s had that he actually gives a shit about. 

When the clock hits midnight, Jason leaves without a second glance. Rather than rushing home like some schoolgirl with a crush, he pointedly stops by a late night grocery store to pick up a few things. He’s not worried. Really. 

He takes the stairs at his normal pace upon arriving home. Anticipation heightens when Jason spots a little sticky note on his door. There’s a smiley face on it and a brief message. 

_Was out of town for a photoshoot. Just got home tonight. Thanks for checking up on me!_

Well, that answers that question. Jason feels a little foolish now that he remembers what Tim’s primary job is. Of course, it would make sense that he travels from time to time. It also reminds him that he never got that business card with Tim’s phone number on it...

Jason darts inside his apartment and grabs a pen. He writes a brief note and places it on Tim’s door. As he showers and cleans up from his bar shift, he wonders how his neighbor will reply. 

 _Just wanted to be sure my music buddy hadn’t kicked it! You still owe me a business card, btw._  

The next morning, he’s up way too early, but he promised Roy to come over and babysit for him while he went out for a job interview. He wasn’t the only one trying to make a better life for himself. His daughter Lian is a doll and adores her Uncle Jay. She shrieks in excitement as soon as he enters the small apartment and rushes towards him.

“Hey, little monkey!” Jason says, picking the little girl up and spinning her around.

“I’m not a monkey!” Lian shouts, wrapping her arms around his neck and climbing over his shoulder to hang on his back.

“Yeah? Coulda fooled me.”

Roy is looking on in fond exasperation. “So much for getting her to eat breakfast.”

Jason waves him off. “I’ll worry about that. You get to that interview and nail it, you hear me?”

“I’ll do my best.” He wraps Jason and his daughter in a hug, wrapping his long arms around them both.

“Daddy!” Lian shrieks again as he tries to give her a kiss over Jason’s shoulder.

“C’mon, Daddy needs a good luck kiss and he’s not getting it from Uncle Jay.”

Jason laughs because it would not be the first time he and Roy have locked lips. “I don’t think Kori would appreciate it,” he says instead.

“She’d light a fire under my ass if we did and she wasn’t there to watch.” Roy winks at him as he finally gets Lian to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, sweetie.”

“Good luck, Daddy!” the toddler pronounces loudly. There’s definitely an issue with her indoor voice.

As much as Jason loves his time with Lian, she is a bundle of energy and he’s short on sleep. By the time Roy returns a few hours later, Jason’s the one ready for a nap. He makes his goodbyes and trudges home. Considering what he knows of Tim’s habits already, he’s not expecting a reply to his note yet, but, to his surprise, there’s a new sticky note on his door when he arrives.

_You must be out. I slid a card under your door. Since we can at least agree on Queen, what are your thoughts on the Clash?_

Jason has plenty of thoughts right now, but none of them are on the Clash. The main one is that he now has Tim’s phone number. He opens the door and, sure enough, there’s a card on the floor. The card goes on his fridge and the number in his phone. Rather than waste another sticky note, he sends Tim a text.

_All I know is Should I Stay or Should I Go, but weren’t they kinda political too?_

It’s not until after Jason sends the text that he realizes he forgot to include that it’s him. Still, the subject matter should clue Tim in as to who sent it because who else would be sending a random music related text?

The reply comes almost instantly, but not via text message. The strains of some song he doesn’t recognize echoes through their shared wall. Jason laughs and settles in to listen, knowing he’s about to get schooled.

~*~*~*~

Tim can’t help but want to kick himself in the ass for not remembering to give Jason his business card. It’s a stupidly easy way to pass off his phone number, especially since his work cell and personal cell are one and the same at the moment. One day, he will have a separate line, he swears it.

For now, he settles for spamming Jason with links to how politics influenced music and various other bits of music history the man seems to find interesting. His replies certainly indicate that he’s at least _reading_ what Tim is sending him, so he’s not annoyed. Tim is the first to admit he watched a little too much _Behind the Music_ and _VH1 Legends_ growing up.

He can’t help but find it funny that here he is texting his neighbor all this stuff when he could just as easily go knock on his door and have a real conversation with him, one where he’s not a gibbering mess and Jason is maybe wearing those gym shorts again.

Tim chuckles to himself while he deftly finishes editing the most recent batch of photos he took. Business is slowing down as the weather gets colder, so his turn around time is faster. But this year, he’s done well enough for himself that he’s booked every weekend through December, as well as for a few private holiday parties during the week. He privately cheers to himself as that means no mall Santa pictures for him.

It’s late by the time Tim finally goes to bed. He’s tired, but it’s the good kind of tired from a job well done. As he falls asleep, he wonders if Jason would model for him so he can practice his black and white editing.

The sound of the fire alarm blaring wakes Tim out of a sound sleep. It takes him a moment to recognize what it is. “Shit,” he mutters as he rolls out of bed. This isn’t good. Not at this time of night.

He grabs the first clothes he can find and lunges across the room to his laptop to shove it into the messenger bag hanging over the back of his desk chair. Tim slings it over his shoulder and darts back across the room to the closet where he stores his camera gear. If this place is going to burn down around him, he damn well wants to try and capture it on film.

There’s a loud knock on his door. “Tim?” a voice calls out. “You awake, bud?”

It’s Jason.

Tim barely remembers to put on shoes before he’s yanking his door open. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

The hall is crowded as people shove their way towards the stairwell. Panicked, half asleep, each one carrying something (or someone) too precious to leave behind. There’s a decided lack of smoke in the air, but that doesn’t mean anything as there’s still four floors of apartments above them.

Jason is like a bulldozer and Tim follows in his wake, even going so far as to grab the back of the leather jacket he’s wearing. There’s a backpack slung over his shoulder and Tim can’t help but wonder what he brought with him. The one glimpse of his apartment a few weeks ago revealed a lot of books.

People are milling about outside, casting anxious looks up at the building they call home. There are flashing lights in the distance and a large ladder truck pulls up. Tim digs out his camera and adjusts the exposure. He takes a few test shots and inspects them on the small digital screen before going at it in earnest. This is the kind of photography he loves. Real and in the moment, whether it’s his neighbors quietly panicking as the wait gets longer or the flashing lights against the side of the building with the firetruck in the background.

“You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

Tim looks up, slightly dazed from having his concentration broken. Jason is a couple feet behind him, an amused expression on his face. He needs a shave in the way most men do in the wee hours of the morning, a shadow dark against his strong jaw. Raising his camera, Tim snaps a picture of him.

“I should charge for that.” Jason winks at him and Tim laughs, remembering his thoughts from earlier.

“What would you charge to model?” he asks, deciding to just go for it. “I got some techniques I’d like to try and my best friend is being a jerk about it.” Kon hates having his picture taken, at least by men. When a woman is involved, he’s all smiles and smoldering eyes.

There’s a pair of smoldering eyes on him right now as Jason’s eyes darken in obvious interest. “What kind of _techniques_ we talkin’ about here?”

Tim stammers and he shuffles his feet, trying to put his brain back together. He glances down and suppresses a whimper because _Jason is wearing the shorts again_. A leather jacket hangs open revealing a bare chest underneath and a pair of sneakers complete the ensemble. Tim can feel the blood draining from his head, traveling to other regions of his body and jerks his eyes back up, blinking rapidly to regain his composure.

“What are you wearing?” he forces out instead of answering Jason’s question.

The other man shrugged. “Didn’t exactly have time to dress, so I grabbed what was easiest while packing the important stuff.” He taps the strap of his backpack to emphasize his point. “Just like you, Mr. Iron Man.”

Looking down, Tim feels his ears burning. He’s wearing his Iron Man pajama pants, the ones Steph had got him for Christmas a few years ago. “At least I have pants,” he manages to retort.

Jason does a little shimmy that proves he really doesn’t have any shame. “I’m sorry, but my eyes are up here.”

Before Tim can reply, a hush falls over the crowd as one of the firefighters speaks up. “False alarm, everyone! You can all go back inside and try to get some sleep.”

He’s saved. But before Tim joins the exodus back into the building, he snaps another picture of Jason. For posterity.

~*~*~*~

Messing with Tim is starting to become Jason’s new favorite hobby. If he had any doubts about whether his neighbor was interested in him or not, they were completely swept away the night that dumbass kid up on the fifth floor triggered the fire alarm. The way Tim practically fell over himself and then ran away after the all-clear was given said it all. 

Still, ogling is one thing, being asked out on a date is another. Which still hasn’t happened a week later, even if their texts have increased in frequency. The topics have moved on from music finally and onto books. Tim is surprisingly well read, even if their tastes in genres differ immensely. Jason doesn’t hold it against him that he has no appreciation for the classics. Much. 

He arches his back and feels a satisfying pop. The sofa is too comfortable sometimes but the chair for his makeshift desk is hard as hell and killer on his back if he sits too long. Jason glares at his laptop and saves his file. A break sounds good. 

Looking around for something to do, he sees it’s time to take out the trash. Rather than waste money on trash bags, Jason uses the plastic grocery bags from the store as his liner instead. He may have to take the trash out almost every day, but it’s better than letting it sit and stink up his small apartment. It’s not like he generates all that much garbage anyways as he prefers to cook for himself rather than eat takeout or frozen meals. 

He checks his fridge while he’s up and makes a face at what he doesn’t find. Looks like he needs to hit up the grocery store while he’s at it. The weather outside is cold and rainy. Perfect day to make soup. 

Jason is soon dressed, jeans having replaced his shorts for the upcoming winter. As he shrugs on his jacket and grabs the trash, he idly wonders if Tim will continue to stare now that his wardrobe has changed somewhat. 

The garbage chutes are at the back of the building, one for regular trash and the other for recyclables. It’s all well and good, but Jason knows for a fact all trash in this building ends up in the same massive dumpster in the alley. He’d somehow managed to drop his keys down the chute not long after he moved in and spent some time dumpster diving to find them. The two chutes side by side were a dead giveaway. 

He tosses his bag down a chute and turns, almost slamming right into Tim. “Hey, there!” Jason tries to greet him, but the shorter man’s face is starting to erupt like a little thundercloud.

“Did you just put trash down the recycle chute?” he accuses.

“Yeah,” Jason replies, running a hand nervously through his hair. “It’s not a big deal, it all goes…”

 _“Not a big deal?”_ Tim almost shouts. “Jason, how could you? We all have to do our part to save this planet and if it means at least putting plastic and paper down one garbage chute versus the other, then that’s easy enough! You can’t be so blasé about it!”

His neighbor’s rant is going in one ear and out the other as Jason is more amused and entranced by how Tim looks when he’s mad about something. Or would that be impassioned? There’s some color to Tim’s cheeks, fleshing out his normally pale skin, but it’s his eyes that are drawing Jason in. Pale blue fire, burning with their intensity. He really wants to see them again, but perhaps when Tim’s yelling at him for an entirely whole different reason while stretched out on his bed…

“Are you even listening to me?” Tim has somehow gotten right into Jason’s personal space and is standing toe to toe with him. “We all have to live on this planet! Do you even know how to recycle?”

It’s time to nip this in the bud. “I do,” Jason replies and taps Tim on the tip of his nose. He scrunches his face up in confusion, not expecting the little tap. “I have to deal with it all the time at the bar and I used to scrounge around for aluminum cans when I was a kid just to get some spare change for a meal.” Not exactly something he wants to admit to Tim, at least not yet, but it comes out anyways. “I hate to burst your bubble, but have you ever been out back here? Both of these garbage chutes open into the same dumpster.”

Tim’s mouth snaps shut and the fire dims. After a moment, he speaks up. “Are you sure?”

Jason digs his keys out of his pocket. “I dropped these down the chute by mistake not long after I moved in. Trust me, dumpster diving is not fun when you have a rotting paper bag full of banana peels and god knows what else falling on top of you. I spent a good 20 minutes in the shower afterwards before I finally started feeling clean again.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Tim retorts, but it’s clear he’s not as certain as he was before. “Someone could have done the same thing you did.”

“Come take a look then.” Jason grabs hold of Tim’s shoulder and steers him towards the staircase. Screw the rain, he’s not going to let something like this ruin any chance he could possibly have with his neighbor.

Tim side-eyes him warily, but dutifully lets himself to be dragged downstairs and out the main entrance to their building. Jason thinks it shows a lot of faith for a Gothamite to allow someone to lead them into an alley, but he keeps his mouth shut. At the back of the building, there’s a massive dumpster with two small openings in the lid for garbage to fall through. It’s so big that Jason needs to find a crate for them to stand on to peer in through the lid he holds up.

There, right on top, is the grocery bag he dropped down the recycle chute earlier.

“See?” Jason says, because sometimes he really can be a dick. “So much for all your sorting.”

The shorter man growls in frustration and shakes his head. “I’m writing a letter to management.”

“Have fun with that. I’m sure they’ll take one look and try to raise your rent next time you renew your lease.”

Tim’s growl turns into a groan. “They would, wouldn’t they? Dammit!”

Jason shrugs and closes the lid. Stepping down from the crate, he holds out a hand to help Tim down. His hand is warm against Jason’s palm. This is the perfect chance to ask Tim out finally, but he still seems riled up over everything. He resists the urge to hold on to his hand longer, so he lets go, slowly trailing his fingers over the pale skin.

“Well, unless you want to start a little revolution, probably just best to leave things be. This is Gotham after all.”

Tim makes a face because he gets it. Jason’s heart warms at the sight. His neighbor is just too damn cute. This is the most animated he’s ever seen him. “Well, Gotham sucks,” Tim finally replies.

Jason can’t help it. “You know, you’re cute when you’re mad,” he says with a grin as he starts walking out of the alley.

“I am not cute!” Tim splutters behind him.

“Yeah, you are.”

~*~*~*~

“Ugh. I am so _screwed_.” Tim buries his face in his pillow, hoping that for once in his life, the ostrich method of avoidance will work for him.

From his phone, Stephanie cackles like the shrew he always knew her to be. “No, hon, you _want_ to be screwed. There’s a difference.”

“I thought you were supposed to be helping me?” Tim cracks an eye and tries to glare balefully at the screen.

“I am,” Steph points out. “I’m pointing out that your gorgeous hunk of a neighbor is totally into you too, so why aren’t you over there and tapping that? Or being tapped by that?”

 _“Steph,”_ Tim groans. “God, I should never have shown you those pictures.”

“Nope,” she agrees. “I have a new wallpaper for my lockscreen now.”

“Goddammit.”

“Seriously, Tim. Man up and go do something about it. From everything you’ve said, he sounds just as interested in you as you are him, so what’s holding you back?”

“My inferiority complex. How can I compare to all _that?_ ”

Stephanie sounds frustrated as she goes into lecture mode. “Okay, look. Jason obviously doesn’t see it that way. You two have been dancing each other for weeks, and it feels like neither of you are willing to make the first move. You what I think? I bet he’s feeling the exact same way.”

Tim raises his face from the pillow. “Why would he feel inferior to someone like me? The guy could probably bench press me and not break a sweat.”

“There’s more to him than just a hot body. If he was just that, you wouldn’t be having this conversation with me.”

That is a completely accurate assessment. Tim nibbles his lip as he thinks it over. He liked Jason before he even knew what he looked like, their little battle of the bands having started it all. He’d first been attracted to his obvious sense of humor. Everything else is just a bonus. “You’re right,” he admits. “Why are you always right?”

“Because I’m the one who really deserves the title of your best friend and not that meathead you hang out with,” Steph says with a laugh. There isn’t any venom directed at Kon though. They both know he can be a bit thick sometimes.

Tim spends the afternoon thinking over what Stephanie said. It still boggles his mind that someone as handsome as Jason could be insecure or uncertain of himself. But he knows the man is interested in him. He’s not that dense. And he…Tim smiles and shakes his head, stopping the line of negative thoughts in its tracks. He’s definitely interested in Jason too.

How to break down that final barrier though? Knocking on Jason’s door and flat out asking him on a date doesn’t seem right. Nor does working it into one of their texts. Money’s tight for both of them and as much as Tim misses the convenience of overpriced coffee, his little coffeemaker here does the job for him.

He stares idly at his laptop. Perhaps the internet has an answer to his dilemma.

An hour later, Tim has a list of potential ice breakers. And one is really standing out as a distinct possibility, especially since he already knows that Jason doesn’t watch a lot of TV. Thankfully, it’s time for mid-season cliffhangers before shows go on hiatus for the holidays, so he browses local listings to see what’s on tonight.

This has to work. It _has to_.

Just before eight, Tim puts his plan into action. The faint strains of music coming from Jason’s apartment tells him the man is home, so his acting isn’t about to go to waste. The thin walls are coming in handy once again.

He glances at the wall and grins. “Dammit!” he shouts and stops his foot for good measure. “No, no, no, no, no! Don’t crap out on me now!” Tim pauses to click around on his perfectly functioning laptop. “Argh!” he growls in faked frustration.

There’s a knock on his wall. _“Tim?”_ Jason calls out. _“Everything okay?”_

“No!” Tim replies loudly. He stomps over to his door and flings it open. This is a lot of fun, he decides. Perhaps he should have taken some theater classes while he was still in school. He’s barely knocked on Jason’s door when the man opens it for him. Time for the real acting to begin. “Do you have a TV?” he asks quickly, letting desperation leak into his voice. “My favorite show is about to start and it’s the mid-season ender and my laptop decided to give me the blue screen of death so I can’t watch it.”

Jason’s eyes widen in surprise. “Y-yeah,” he says and backs away from the door to let Tim inside.

“ _Thank you!_ ” Tim makes sure to say emphatically. “I still got two minutes, I’ll be right back!” He darts back over to his apartment and tries very hard to muffle his laughter. This is going perfectly. From the fridge, he grabs a six pack of beer that Steph smuggled out of the bar for him that he hasn’t touched. He doesn’t know if Jason even drinks, but hey, it’s a peace offering for the intrusion.

Right. And monkeys will fly out his ass too.

A minute later finds him back in Jason’s apartment, curled up on a very comfortable sofa, and clicking through the stations to find the show he’d selected for this little charade. Tim has at least seen the show before, so he has an idea of what’s going on. Jason hands him a beer from the carton he shoved in his hands when he returned and sits beside him as it starts. He seems bemused by the entire situation. Which is fine, and much better than being kicked out and left to his own devices.

At the first commercial break, Tim relaxes and casts a shy glance over at Jason. “Seriously, thank you for this.”

Jason laughs quietly and sips his beer. He’s not wearing the little gym shorts that Tim has grown to love and hate, but he’s still wearing casual clothing that looks more like pajamas than anything else. “No skin off my back,” he offers in reply. “I’ve been wondering what it would take to get you over here.”

Tim smiles and pointedly rakes his eyes up and down Jason’s muscled frame. “You could have taken me up on modeling anytime you know.”

“I could have. But I know money’s tight for both of us and I wouldn’t want you to pay me for something I’d do for free.”

The smile grows. “Yeah? And just what are you willing to do for free?”

Jason’s eyes grow predatory as he picks up on Tim’s little game. Good. He’s tired of beating around the bush. Jason sets down his beer and in one smooth move removes his faded sweatshirt, revealing a chest and muscles that have been haunting Tim’s dreams for months.

“Fuck.” Tim tries not to swear, but it slips out.

“That’ll be extra.”

“Yeah?” Tim feels emboldened by the obvious interest he sees from Jason and scoots closer. “I’m broke right now, so how about a trade?”

Jason smirks. They both know where this is going. Finally. “I’m listening.”

Tim sets down his beer on the rickety looking coffee table and closes the distance between them, rising up on his knees and not paying the slightest bit of attention to the show that starts playing again. He’s got what he came here for. This close, Jason’s eyes are the most vibrant blue Tim has ever seen.

Rather than saying a word, Tim lets his actions speak for him. He gently brushes his lips against Jason’s, giving the man plenty of time to pull back if he really doesn’t want this. When he doesn’t, Tim presses in harder. He feels a large hand tug at his hip and he falls across Jason’s thighs, quickly readjusting himself to straddle them all the while not breaking the kiss.

He feels Jason smile as both hands settle on either side of his waist. “You really don’t care about this show, do you?” Jason asks, barely breaking contact with Tim’s mouth.

“Nope.” Tim nibbles at the line of Jason’s jaw. “Less talking, more kissing.”

“Bossy.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think so.”

 


End file.
